


The Abbey

by lorilee



Category: Cassian - Fandom, LOTP, Life of the Party D&D (Web Series), Vanden, life of the party - Fandom
Genre: Life of the Party DND, M/M, NyxRisingIndustries, dnd, life of the party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22786783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorilee/pseuds/lorilee
Summary: Episode 26, Vanden POV fic.Vanden feels frustrated in the lead-up to the battle with The Weeping Eye
Relationships: Cassian/Renard (Life of the Party), Cassian/Vanden, Vanden/Jocelyn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	The Abbey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyxrising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxrising/gifts), [life of the party](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=life+of+the+party).
  * Inspired by [Episode 26 - The Weeping Eye](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/560515) by nyxrising. 



> I feel a little guilty messing around with these characters since I don't want to go rogue with the canon, but I have no way of knowing what R or Chase were actually thinking. I've watched this episode soooo many times, so I tried my best to interpret facial expressions, dialogue etc. I hope it's not tooooo far off the mark. 
> 
> I took some creative liberty with the dialogue, obvs.
> 
> (PS. if anyone knows the name of those trident creatures on the riverbank, please please lmk)

The balmy curtain of night hung thick and heavy over the abbey grounds. Vanden shivered despite the heat, the anticipation of battle chilling the damp air as it settled against his skin. His eyes flickered around the crumbling stone walls of the ruin, once more taking tactical surveillance of the terrain. He hadn’t committed to a vantage point yet, although he was glad that most of his comrades had. Their safety was paramount to him these days, especially since this was his mess that they had gotten themselves into.

His thoughts turned instinctively to Astra. He couldn’t deny that he worried about the tiefling, more so than any other party member. Astra was capable, of that he had proven himself many times, especially in the pyramid. But his reluctance to take up arms was something of a sticking point with the ever-weary Vanden. At least he could take comfort in the fact that this time they had Aerenthias and Jocelyn by their side, two seasoned veterans whom Vanden could rely on to protect his new comrades.

He eyed the tower where the crimson tiefling had earlier readied his position. The pale moonlight pierced through the remaining stained-glass window, illuminating his perch in a soft glow. If he squinted hard enough he could almost make out the long lines of rope that provided Aerenthias and Elyse extra mobility. He smiled. Aerenthias was smart, smarter than his good-looks and suave demeanor belied. Not that it was impossible to be both intelligent and handsome, but there was certainly a lot to be gained from being constantly underestimated. It suddenly occurred to Vanden that perhaps Aerenthias’ charismatic nature might be something of a decoy tactic, just as his own cold metal mask was.

He absently reached up to where the mask usually perched, running a hand along the crest of his cheek. It felt good to shed the contraption more these days. Or perhaps it just felt good to reveal more of his true self to his companions. Either way, Vanden could feel his barriers starting to break down.

It wasn’t altogether unpleasant. He trusted and respected them. All of them. And part of that meant being honest about his true identity. To his relief, nothing much had changed since they discovered who he really was. It was strange hearing them call him Vanden instead of Renard, and he wasn’t sure if poor Boblem would ever get used to it. But as expected, the others barely cared, he wasn’t their prince after all. And as for Cassian, with all his rigid views on socialism, well, he was always going to be more problematic. For a moment it appeared that he had indeed lost the allegiance of the elf, he had certainly been extra cold with him directly after the big reveal. But now it seemed like he was coming to terms with it. Vanden supposed he should have been more tactful with him, broaching the subject privately, and perhaps a little more delicately.

Not that he had a choice. The arrival of Jocelyn had somewhat forced his hand in the matter. It was of little consequence, of course. The reunion with the captain had been nothing short of a miracle. As if on cue, a small ache from their earlier sparring match twinged, and he rubbed absently at the bruising skin along his knuckles. Seeing her was both painful and joyous in equal measure. She stood for everything he loved and missed about his life back in Mirrortail. On the other hand, he knew that when dawn arrived he would be thrust closer to the truth about his parents and the fate of his home. He also knew, deep in his heart, that this journey was destined to be tragic. And yet, there was no other choice. He had to know what happened to them, regardless of the pain that would inevitably follow. At least she was the one redeeming grace in the entire affair.

Jocelyn. He was nothing more than a baby brother-figure to her, he knew that. Yet he had been in love with her his entire life. She had always been impossibly cooler, smarter, stronger and better than him in all ways, and he had idolised her for as long as he could remember. That adolescent fascination had turned to respect, then desire, and finally true unadulterated love. But it was different now. Suddenly she was off limits to him. Romantically anyway. It was like she was too good for all that. Like she had ascended past the object of his more crude and private desires, and become something else entirely.

But Cassian. Well, yes. Cassian. It wasn’t something he had given much serious thought to. Of course, he had noticed Cassian’s impossibly good-looks from the moment he had first laid eyes on him. It was undeniable. And then there were the times that he caught himself staring too frequently at the elf. At first it was simply a matter of caution, keeping an eye on a potential threat. But if truth be told, he had stopped looking at him that way some time ago. Probably around the time when they fought Dark Astra on the riverbed.

He could still remember how Cassian’s tall, slim frame felt hooked against his body. He was deceptively heavy, but Vanden noticed that he preferred the sturdier weight, comforting and substantial at his side. They fit together annoyingly well. And then he remembers looking down at his face. His features were just so beautifully delicate, his lashes thick and dark, his eyes molten gold. He reached out, almost automatically, to touch him. It was intended as light teasing, calling the other man’s bluff as he draped himself dramatically over Vanden like a giddy admirer. But playfully brushing that offending tendril of hair from Cassian’s brow seemed to have a lasting effect on Vanden. Now he finds himself looking at the elf, not because he requires any sort of monitoring, but simply because he wants to.

And the kiss. The bloody kiss. It was all too raw for Vanden, and he groaned inwardly at the unbidden memory. Until that moment, he had always assumed that his proclivities were with women. After all, Jocelyn was very much a woman. But if truth be told, the women whom he had successfully bedded were all a matter of availability rather than genuine attraction. He shrugged the thought away. It mattered not what gender Cassian was, only that it was Cassian at all. He was the problem. Obviously. Vanden huffed angrily, slumping back against a stone wall and dropping to the trampled earth. He sat there for close to 30 minutes allowing his thoughts to manifest properly in his head.

It seemed absurdly obvious when he thought about it all like this, laid out and concentrated into one single thread. But there had been so much more going on over the last few weeks. Things far bigger and far more urgent than just himself. Besides, he had grown closer to all the party members. It wasn’t as if Cassian was the sole recipient of his growing affection. 'But you didn’t kiss any of the others, did you?' His mind shoved the thought at him in betrayal, causing him to cringe as he circulated once more through the same confused musings.

It continued like this for some time until finally the first whispers of fatigue threatened to appear. He straightened up, arching his back against the damp stone. There was probably a good two hours left on his watch, and he needed a distraction. Before the thought had even left his mind, Vanden was vaulting a fallen wall to get back into the abbey to find Cassian.

***

The ensuing sparring match was well fought. Cassian was much better with a sword than Vanden could ever expect, and when he told him so, he seemed pleased. In truth, Vanden found himself slightly distracted. He knew he could have tried harder, could have easily overpowered him, physically at least, if there had been any true malice behind his actions. But Cassian’s steadily reddening cheeks as he exerted himself were putting Vanden firmly on the back foot. He couldn’t stop staring at his slightly parted lips, or the thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Couldn’t help but turn away too early when Cassian’s lithe body lunged towards him, leaving him more exposed than he should have been. The final onslaught of blades had been particularly fierce, and after the exchange Cassian’s breath was slightly jagged, his chest heaving, his damp hair falling across his darkened eyes… and, well, shit. Before he could change his mind, Vanden knew he had to confront Cassian.

He took full advantage of his lowered defense, flicking Undertow to the ground as the other man recovered. He looked confused, maybe even a little annoyed, but Vanden spat out his question before he had a chance to protest. “Why did you kiss me?” Cassian visibly stiffened, and the following silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity. He was clearly not prepared for this conversation. Vanden watched as a slight frown flickered across Cassian’s face, and evidently stalling for time, he reached forward to retrieve his blade. Vanden kicked it aside, determined to get an answer. The elf’s jaw clenched. This time he was most definitely annoyed.

It was evident that Cassian didn’t want to talk about the kiss. In fact, had Vanden not mentioned it, he probably would have been perfectly content to never speak of it again. Especially now that he knew who Vanden really was. Unfortunately for Vanden, the idea of never kissing Cassian again was proving somewhat difficult to accept. The air shifted around them as Vanden squared his shoulders in silent defiance. It was uncomfortable, but it worked. Cassian eventually straightened up, abandoning his attempt to collect the sword. He looked Vanden dead in the eye, taking a steadying breath before answering. “Because I wanted to…?”

It was more a question than an explanation. Almost as if Cassian himself was surprised by this unexpected revelation. Or maybe he was pandering to Vanden, frustrated that he needed to explain something so obvious. After all, why else would someone kiss someone? Vanden faltered. He didn’t know what he had expected, but this wasn’t it. He supposed there would have been some witty response, some sort of retort designed to put Vanden back in his place, maybe even an attempt to brush it off as a joke. But this was genuine. Cassian had genuinely wanted to kiss him. He’d meant for it to happen. And suddenly Vanden remembered that he had kissed him back. If Cassian were to spring the same question on him, he would have to reciprocate the sentiment. “Because I wanted to too.” The idea of admitting that out-loud terrified him, and suddenly he regretted asking at all.

“Right… well. Fair enough.” He sputtered out a response, desperate to avoid a similar line of inquiry from Cassian. Had he been Aerenthias, or Elyse, or maybe even Sariel he would have asked, “And how about now? Do you still want to?” But it dawned on him that he shouldn’t push it. Didn’t think he was quite ready for whatever the response might be, whether agreeable or not. He glanced up, meeting Cassian’s eye once more. There was a look on the elf’s face that seemed misplaced on him. It was soft, maybe even thoughtful. Vanden noted with some satisfaction that his first assessment may actually prove correct; that Cassian was uncomfortable and confused about his feelings towards the prince.

He nudged Undertow back towards him. “I’m getting sick of fighting with you,” he said matter-of-factually. Cassian nodded, bending to retrieve his blade. He flipped it lazily through the air, inspecting the length of it before resting it in the sheath. He turned to Vanden with an apologetic shrug.

“I must admit. I told Sariel some time ago that pushing your buttons was rather… thrilling.” It wasn’t really an apology, just an admission of what Vanden already knew. It was no secret that Cassian enjoyed goading him. If this had been under different circumstances Vanden might have demanded that he stop. But that look was still on his face. He could almost see the cogs whirring inside Cassian’s head, could almost see the comprehension dawn within the other man’s consciousness. Ordinarily it would have been comical to see the usually composed high-elf caught in such a moment of indecision. Then, as if Cassian had read his mind, the softness abruptly disappeared from his face, only to be replaced with a quirked brow and arrogant smirk. “Especially now that I know there is such a pretty face flushing under there.”

The comment caught Vanden off guard, as intended, and he immediately blushed a furious shade of red. He heard Cassian laugh, a lilting mocking tone. His shock immediately turned to frustration, as it so often did with Cassian. Just when he thought he had the upper hand the elf always managed to provoke and undermine him. It was infuriating. But then Cassian sighed, and although it was barely perceptible, Vanden could hear an unmistakable tinge of regret in his voice. “Case and point,” he muttered.

Was Cassian really talking himself out of pursuing any sort of relationship with him already? Would he doubt their compatibility based purely off Vanden’s station? Cassian would most certainly be the type to converge on social expectations when screening a potential interest. And Vanden suspected that being a prince would not grant him immunity from Cassian’s exacting ideals regarding what was ‘proper.’ It was also guaranteed that once Cassian deemed him inappropriate, there would be no convincing him otherwise. Vanden panicked.

“We make a good team,” he stammered. It was meant to sound authoritative. Meant to remind Cassian that they were absolutely to be considered equals in all things. But Vanden could feel the insecurity laced within his own words. He was accustomed to people driving a wedge between them before he even had a chance. Thankfully, miraculously, the sentiment seemed to reach Cassian. He nodded slowly.

“I…have your back.” His entire demeanor sobered, and Vanden knew those words held a hidden depth, a vague promise of an uncertain and complex possibility that neither man knew what to do with yet. Suddenly he realised that there was never any question of where he would be tomorrow morning when The Weeping Eye arrived.

“I have yours too.” He replied.

The elf tilted his chin to peer at him through slanted eyes, his brow knitted in contemplation. After a brief pause he murmured, “I know.”

And even as Vanden found himself starting to lean closer, eyes fixed firmly on those pouting lips, Cassian turned on his heel and sauntered deep into the shadows of the abbey.

***

He was awoken by Jocelyn shaking him urgently. “Get up, they’re here.” She moved to rouse Elyse, who was already beginning to stir. Around them the rest of his allies were moving silently and deftly into position. Aerenthias disappeared over the ledge of their camp, only to reappear at the base of the tower, pulling himself up the rope with impossible speed. Boblem and Sariel were running among the upper parapets, bounding swiftly to the other side of the building. He turned to offer an encouraging smile to Astra, who was clutching his instruments tightly to his chest. He smiled weakly back, and Vanden was comforted to see Pebble’s dagger nestled securely at this side.

Jocelyn nudged him in the ribs, gesturing silently towards the front entrance. He nodded. The two of them dropped over the side of the ledge and padded into position, the captain moving to flank the door from the opposite side. Cassian was already waiting, breathing deeply as if going into a meditative trance. It was just one more point of contention that he was a magic-wielder, although it didn’t bother Vanden nearly as much as he thought it would. In fact, he could almost feel himself becoming desensitised to magic the longer he stayed with this little ragtag bunch. Cassian turned to face him, wordlessly eyeing him up and down before turning back around again. Vanden took that as a sign that he was allowed to stay, at least he wasn’t told to fuck off. He moved up behind him, clasping a firm hand to his shoulder.

“I know you’ve got this,” he said, leaning in so that his breath snaked against the exposed skin at the nape of Cassian’s neck. He could feel a familiar warmth flood his body, as if he was filling with an intense light. He let the warmth concentrate at the place of contact on Cassian’s shoulder. And then it was gone, the feeling escaping him entirely as it rushed into the other man. It had the intended effect, and Vanden could feel Cassian tense momentarily, before relaxing into his touch. He leaned back, his hair ticking against the side of Vanden’s cheek. His whisper was barely perceptible, even from this distance.

“Don’t... die,” he hummed tunelessly in response. His angular face shifted slightly so that Vanden could study his sharp profile. Could see the small smile that threatened to tug at his lips.

He smiled back. “You too.” He tightened his grip briefly before letting go and stepping back into position, readying his weapons. He expected Cassian to do the same, to retrieve his wand at least. But instead he drew his sword, the wand nowhere to be seen. “Cassian?” He queried. “Where is your wand?”

“Don’t need it.” The other hissed back.

Vanden frowned. “What do you mean? Are you sure?”

“Yes, Vanden. Quite sure.” Cassian was getting a little impatient, he knew that. But this was no time for him to be experimental with new fighting techniques.

“Then how come you’ve been using it this whole time?” Vanden demanded.

The elf turned on his heel, his eyes flashing with frustration. “Look, can we discuss the nature of my spell-casting abilities at some other, less life-threatening, time perhaps?” He looked incredulously at Vanden, who quickly nodded in agreement.

“Right. Yes. Of course.” He stammered, blushing slightly. That was one thing that both Jocelyn and Cassian shared, the ability to make him feel like a silly little child. Not that Jocelyn did it on purpose, of course. But he was suddenly very much reminded of the stark age gap between the two men. Despite looking like he was in his 20’s or 30’s, Cassian was actually well into his 200’s or 300’s, and would likely outlive them all by hundreds of years still. It was just one more way in which their relationship, if that’s what this was, would be tested.

But in that moment, in the silent and endless seconds leading up to the battle’s commencement, Vanden found that he didn’t care. Cassian had admitted to wanting him. At least, he had admitted to wanting to kiss him. And now, with the prospect of death knocking quite literally at the door, Vanden promised himself that he was going to do everything in his power to make him want to do it again.


End file.
